Rabbit.

They call me Rabbit. That's not my name.

(…Wooden hand reaching out even as it crumbles, look of fear in his face….)

Thor told them I was called Rabbit. I don't bother to correct him. I'm too tired at first, and by then the name has stuck. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. Besides, I've been called a lot frickin' worse…

Vermin, freak, monster, thief, murderer, rodent, thing, 89P13, trash-panda, dad-

(No! that memory is still too painful, I try to push it down, but I can't.

… look of fear in his face as he pleads, confused, reaching out to me as I reach back, but his fingers slip away from mine, breaking and crumbling like ash…)

… and after all, what's in a name? Once I would have got angry if someone got my frickn' name wrong. Once. I doesn't seem important now. Few things do, if I'm being honest.

No: just one thing. Only one thing matters. Thor had the right idea, he had a grasp on it, before I even knew I'd feel that need.

I've not been taking care of myself, I know. I was in a pretty deep funk for a while there after… After…

(…crumbling like ash, the dust so fine it feels almost silky in my fingers, like baby powder. I can smell it already, and I've been smelling it ever since in the back of my mind. Its bitter, so very bitter, and as he looks at me his face…)

… after that thing that happened. That no excuse, I know. I'm not the only one. Hell, half the people in the universe know how I feel right now.

The other half? Well, I guess they're not feeling this sort of pain anymore. They're not feeling a whole bunch of anything right now. I've got to give the purple bastard that much, I guess. It was no excuse for getting sloppy. My pain isn't special. It doesn't make me important. It's no excuse to drop the ball.

(…and as he looks at me his face, his face cracking up even as I look back at him, I can see his remarkable healing kick in and try to undo the damage, he regenerates as only a plant can.

But it's not enough!)

A lot of people lost someone that day. Some of them couldn't take it, and stepped off the nearest building, even here in Wakanda, where apparently the damage wasn't so severe:

Apparently the finger-snap took into account the battle, so those who had lost someone in the fighting were more likely to be saved. Seems weird, there's a logic to this, an underlying thread, but I can't find it. My mind, my remarkable mind, is too shot to hell right now. But if there's something I can use against him, I'll work it out.

I was too weak and broken even for that. I just crawled into bed, stopped eating, and waited to die. I don't think it was a suicide attempt, not exactly I… I just didn't have the energy to keep fighting anymore. It all just hurt too much. I felt empty, hollowed out like there was nothing where my insides should be.

Nothing but that damn dust.

(But it's not enough! He crumbles faster that he heals, still trying to reach out to me, pleading. They say The Snap was quick, that people crumbled in a few seconds, and were mostly unaware of what was happening to them. I'm spared even that small mercy. Of course I am. No, I have to watch as Groot's regeneration drags the process out… it couldn't have lasted more than a minute. But you know what they say: an hour chatting with someone you love feels like a minute, a minute with your paw of a hotplate feels like an hour…)

The other survivors of the battle realize at about day three that I'm not turning up to their little planning sessions, and send someone to fetch me. I think I bite her pretty badly, but those first few days are just a blur of pain. I don't remember.
They send War Machine the next day, thinking he's not going to worry about a few bites. His armour is surprisingly good, for Terran tech. But it's only Terran: I disable the arc reactor in seconds. Wouldn't have been able to if he'd expected me to fight back, but I'm small, and look weak, and was practically catatonic before he grabbed my tail, and I lash out and catch him unawares. Arc reactors: How quaint. Groot would have loved that, he liked retro tech, like Quill's stupid Walkman or Zune.

(a minute with your paw of a hotplate feels like an hour. How long does watching the only person you have left die in front of you feel? All too many people can answer that question now. But how many of them know it's their fault? It's their fault that The Snap happened, that we failed to stop the Purple bastard! That I failed… And that is all I share with the people around me. I hate them for it.)

Quill… We're still getting mixed reports on what happed on Titan. Nebula is transmitting, but these Terran hicks aren't on any standardized galactic coms-net, and even with Stark working one end and the Wakandan's the other, the signal is still scrambled more often than not. It does however look like Quill screwed the pooch somehow.

I'm not surprised, and I don't blame him, strangely. I have little enough room to blame people who ain't me, and besides, it's in keeping. His response to finding out a god killed his mom was to empty his mag into a fricking celestial. With no hesitation. He once went back into a heavily guarded prison to get his Walkman, because it reminds him of his mom. He gave Gamora his O2 mask in space, and got involved in a prison execution to save her, back when he didn't even know her. He apparently once got into a fight because some kids squashed a fog. I guess he just has a thing for green skin.

(I hate them for it… but I don't blame them. I blame myself. )

He leaps before he looks, and that's the worst and the best thing about Quill. He don't plan, not when his friends are involved, he just jumps to your aid, guns blazing, no thought or hesitation. That's what I like about him….

Liked. Liked about him. Right… I keep forgetting. They're all dead. It's funny, how you can be so torn up with grief you occasionally forget something that big. They're all dead. It's just me. I'm the last one. Some Guardians of the Galaxy we turned out to be.

(I blame myself… and even in that I'm not special. There are so many "what if's" about Thanos that we all carry at least one. What if we'd stopped Strange and Stark and the others from leaving earth? What if we'd had the battle some place other than Wakanda? What if me and Thor had arrived fifteen minutes earlier? What if he'd swing that axe at his head or his stupid frickin' hand and cut the glove off him? What if they'd let Wanda kill Vision? What if-)

I'm sorry I never got to meet Wanda. She sounded like a decent person… but that's not it. No, I'm way more messed up than that. It's just… half the universe now knows what it's like to lose someone you love. Countless millions had to watch the person they love most in the world die…. But how many of us poor saps have had to watch the person we love most in the world die twice?

If she'd survived we could have made a really fucked up support group. But I guess it's just me. It's always just me…

(What if what if what if…. Oh boy, we screwed the pooch. What is a pooch anyway? I wish Quill was here: I don't feel so awkward asking him these things compared to the other Terran's. Strangely, even through all the pain and grief, I still don't want to look stupid in front of the others. Dumb ain't it? The others….)

I guess if this Stark guy ever gets back, I could ask him to be my support buddy; apparently he was pretty close to this bug-boy, or whatever his name was. Ask him "So hey, what exactly did it feel like for you to have your surrogate son crumble in your arms, helpless to stop it, while he pleaded and you knew it was all your fault? Because it sure sucked for me."

Maybe not. That's a pretty shitty thing to do, even for me.

(The others…. We just all have these meetings, about what to do next, and not a single one of those bastards will meet the other's eyes. We all know we screwed up and got half the universe killed. So why have the meeting? To be honest, I think my plan of stay in bed until I die there and rot through the mattress is the smarter option, but that's just my opinion. What does it matter? I close my eyes, and try to ignore them all, but when I do, I just see it all again.

… his wooden hand reaching out even as it crumbles)

Thor was the one who finally dragged me out of bed, ignoring teeth and claws and spectacularly bad language, and tossed me into a shower, because I was beyond nasty at that point. He's the one who damned my pain and made me live, who force-fed me as I kicked and screamed and cursed him for not swinging that axe at his frickin' head, and he set his big square heroic jaw and took it, because he wasn't letting me die that easy.

He has a plan, and he needs me.

I look at the parts, scattered over the floor of the hotel suite in Wakanda where they've stashed me because they don't know what to do with me. I look at the weapon parts. This Wakandan junk is primitive as hell… but a lot better that I expected for a backwater dirt-ball like Terra. A lot better. I can work with this, I think, as I start to build a weapon.

(… look of fear in his face as he pleads, confused, reaching out to me as I reach back, but his fingers slip away from mine, breaking and crumbling like ash…)

They call me rabbit. It's not my name. Thor told them I was called Rabbit. I don't bother to correct him. I'm too tired at first, and by then the name has stuck. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. Besides, I've been called a lot frickin' worse.

I build the weapon, slowly, methodically, using it to calm and organise my mind.

Thor has a plan. Oh, the others do to… but they're trying to find a way to somehow make all this right. They're playing at being heroes.

Quill was a hero. Gamora and Drax and Mantis too. Groot… Groot had something heroic in him, too. A light in his soul. And maybe, just maybe, towards the end, Rocket was a becoming a bit more of a hero, and a bit less of a professional asshole.

But I'm called Rabbit now. I'm not a Guardian of the Galaxy any more. I ain't guarding jack shit.

I build the weapon, slowly, methodically, using it to calm and organise my mind, and think about Thor's plan. I think about Thor, and what he said, when I was playing captain, and trying to comfort him

"The rage and vengeance, anger... Loss, regret, they're all tremendous motivators. They really clear the mind, so I'm good to go." Thor said on the way to forge the weapon that spectacularly failed to kill Thanos. Back when I didn't understand his loss.

I once berated Drax for letting grief make him break, and do something stupid. We've all got dead people! That's no excuse for getting everyone else dead along the way!" I said.

I think now that I might have spoken to soon. Getting everyone else dead along the way seems like a fine idea at this point.

After all, were already half way there. I think, putting the finishing touches to the weapon. It's a real peach, a real nasty piece of work.

It's not the only one.

(…crumbling like ash, the dust so fine it feels almost silky in my fingers, like baby powder. I can smell it already, and I've been smelling it ever since in the back of my mind. It's bitter, so very bitter, and as he looks at me his face…)

I glared at Thor, when I realised he seriously wasn't just going to let me waste away, and I decided to hurt him for it.

"The rage and vengeance, anger... Loss, regret, they're all tremendous motivators. They really clear the mind, so I'm good to go."

I looked him dead in the eye, and I said. "Hey, Odinsson." I spat, as he held me in the shower and tried to get the dust out of my grimy fur. I didn't want him too, it was all I had left of Groot. "Blondie, you know what I was doing while you were spectacularly failing to cut that damn glove off, buddy? Having a nice little chat with Groot while he melted away to dust, and you know what we talked about, big guy, you wanna frickin' know what his last words were?" I yelled, screaming and spitting, tears mixing with the water. "He said I am Groot!"

I get the infection exactly right, and Thor flinches, like he's been slapped. Oh yeah, pretty boy, you're regretting taking that optional extra-credit course to learn to speak Groot now, aint ya? Because him and me are the only two people left in the universe who can understand what I just said.

(…and as he looks at me his face, his face cracking up even as I look back at him, I can see his remarkable healing kick in and try to undo the damage, he regenerates as only a plant can.

But it's not enough! He crumbles faster that he heals, still trying to reach out to me, pleading. They say The Snap was quick, that people crumbled in a few seconds, and were mostly unaware of what was happening to them. I'm spared even that small mercy. Of course I am. No, I have to watch as Groot's regeneration drags the process out… it couldn't have lasted more than a minute. But you know what they say: an hour chatting with someone you love feels like a minute, a minute with your paw of a hotplate feels like an hour…

And he looks me in the eye, as I reach for him and can't get a hold of him, and he askes, pleadingly "Dad?"

And then he's gone.)

Thor, holding me down me in that hotel shower while I bite and kick and scratch him, winces, and then, to my surprise and rage, hugs me. I fight harder, but there's no getting out of it. He's too strong. Eventually, the fight goes out of me. I just want to die, and I sob and sob and I just can't stop.

"It's okay, Rabbit… it's okay. We…. We failed. You're right to blame me. The others say we shouldn't blame ourselves: that we should put all our blame on Thanos. But that seems very selfish, to me, Rabbit. He's already taken everything else, from us, why should we give him that as well?"

I snarl.

"I want to kill him." I mutter into my own sodden fur.

Thor smiles. "You know, with all the others trying to find some sort of plan to somehow undo this, or make it right, or help the half of a galaxy left behind, I think you're the only one out of them who has actually just come out with it and said that. They are all trying to be noble and constructive about this, for some reason."

I remember snorting back laughter. "Fuck that" I think. Apparently I said that out loud, because Thor laughs grimly.

"Yes. The rage and vengeance, anger... Loss, regret, they're all tremendous motivators. They really do clear the mind, so I'm good to go, if you are."

I peal myself way from his shoulder long enough to give him the stink eye.

"Go? Go where?" I ask. I look like a drowned rat. He don't look to much better. I wonder when he last slept.

"Wherever Thanos is." He says. And after a moment, I grin.

I'm grinning now, as I put the final piece into the weapon, and it hums to life.

Rocket, Guardian of the galaxy, was a hero. Thor, prince of Asgard was a hero. But Asgard is gone. The Guardians are gone, and my name is Rabbit.

If the others want to try and pick up the broken pieces, good for them. Thor and Rabbit, we have other plans.

I didn't know what a rabbit was, so when I got the chance I googled it. There are apparently two meanings: a small fluffy animal that everyone thinks is harmless, and the Irish Gaelic word for dangerous. I'm okay with those two terms.

Let the heroes be heroes, but personally, we tried that, and it didn't work out so well for half of the universe. I'm trying out a different option.

Because we failed to save our friends. I failed to save Groot, my adoptive son. We didn't save the day. The bad guy won.

So what?

Just because we couldn't protect the earth doesn't mean we can't damn well Avenge it.

(Dad!?)

And this time, we will be aiming for the head.